


The Worst Way to Start a Relationship or How do I always end up comforting others when they're the ones that hurt me?

by ActiveAgression



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Miscommunication, Pancakes, Unsafe Sex, but happier then you'd expect, not exactly a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActiveAgression/pseuds/ActiveAgression
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray's working a wedding when he sees some guy down in the tennis court. </p><p>[In the next thirty minutes of set up for dinner, Ray finds himself coming up with names for ‘tennis court guy’ so he can be called something other then ‘tennis court guy’. He goes through many, ‘carrot,’ ‘the mad king’ and ‘studmuffin’ are quickly dismissed and so is ‘Terry’ and ‘vaguely Chris Pratt’.]</p><p>It's only when he's out for a basic security check that he realises he should have brought Gavin with him or should've just left 'tennis court guy' to sit in the dark alone.<br/>Instead he ends up exploring his 'non consensual' kink in a rather non consensual way, ["You have two options, either you play nice and I let you sit up front or you’re going in the trunk.”]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'Tennis court guy'

**Author's Note:**

> Right... to start this off i would like to say i understand rape is a very serious thing and i do not condone it in any way. In fact i think this fic shows why you should always get consent. Consent is very important. Cool
> 
> (Reposted with some basic error correction)

Ray’s climbing the stairs to storage in a quest for spoons and forks when he sees someone sitting down in the old tennis court - the one he’s never seen used in the entire time he’s worked here. That’s a whole five years of abandonment.

He slows on the step to squint at the guy, and it’s obviously a guy. For one he’s wearing a suit, it’s navy blue in the distance and Ray can see the hint of a white shirt underneath it, but the real reason Ray knows it’s a guy is the size of him. He’s not obese or anything, just… fucking built - like a brick wall. Ray can tell he is from over a hundred metres away and he thinks he’s getting heart palpitations just thinking about it. 

He’s sitting in that one lonely chair that Ray’s always known in the back of his mind is there, but never really thought about till now. It’s the only chair on the entire court and it’s at the far end, like once, long ago, someone pulled it out to watch a game of tennis and never put it back. 

The place is obviously creepy. It’s abandoned, overgrown and Ray has no doubts there are ghosts lingering down there. Or werewolves. Something terrible in any case. 

Ray has no idea why a wedding guest would ever go down there, but suspects he’s escaped to smoke weed or something. It is a wedding; you don’t just ditch your friends wedding unless you’re really itching for a fix. 

Ray isn’t really sure if people are meant to be down there but he has more important (and less creepy) matters to attend to, like cutlery. He’ll ask Jack about it when he gets back anyway. 

 

“Jack,” he calls, stepping into the kitchen, cutlery clutched in his fists.

“Yeah,” Jack asks, back turned to him as he converses with Michael, their cook. He’s obviously busy and distracted and he doesn’t even appear to realise he’d answered Ray as the conversation carries on and Jack doesn’t turn to look at him.

It’s not surprising, Michael’s starting to look fed up and when Michael gets angry nothing gets done… and there’s yelling. A lot of yelling.

Considering the ceremony for the wedding is about to start Jack’s probably trying to keep Michael under wraps. Ray finds himself wondering if ‘tennis court guy’ is gonna make it up in time but then he looks out the window and there the guy is, mingling with the crowd as if he’d never left at all.

Ray admits to staring a little because he’d known the guy was big but wow. His suit fits him like a glove, accentuating the curve from his broad shoulders to his hips.

‘He’s carrot shaped,” Ray thinks dumbly as the guy moves.

He’s also way more handsome then Ray had imagined from his squinting impressions on the stairs. 

Dark blonde stubble prickles along his jaw and his face fits together well. Ray’s always liked well balanced faces. And eyes. Ray’s always liked eyes and man, does this guy have some beautiful eyes. 

They’re obviously blue, even from where Ray’s standing through the panes of a window. Ray knows a lot of people with blue eyes but often you can’t really tell they’re blue until you’re up in front of them, getting in their space to really look. The blue of this guy’s eyes is so there, so in your face like it’s saying, ‘if I’m gonna be fucking blue, I’m gonna go all out.’

Ray finds himself a little envious (and a lot turned on), his own eyes are brown and all he can think is ‘boring… boring. Why must you be so boring?’

He decides ‘tennis court guy’s’ eyes are his best feature and goes to turn away, to actually do his fucking job when the guy smiles.

“Holy shit,” Ray says aloud and Michael turns to frown at him from where he’s slicing up chicken.

“What?”

Ray doesn’t answer because this guy’s smile is insane. It’s the most inside melting, boner-inducing smile he’s ever seen. It’s slow: the guy turns to someone out of sight, lips quirking as he starts to talk. He nods as he does, lifting a singular eyebrow briefly and then he’s turning away but his face is arranged into the most adorable and attractive smile Ray’s ever seen.

Best of all is that he seems amused by whatever he just said… it’s sort of like laughing at your own joke… a thing that Ray has done many times. He stares at the ‘tennis court guy’ and decides that he will talk to him before the night is through… and it’ll be about something that isn’t food.

In the next thirty minutes of set up for dinner, Ray finds himself coming up with names for ‘tennis court guy’ so he can be called something other than ‘tennis court guy’. He goes through many, ‘carrot,’ ‘the mad king’ and ‘studmuffin’ are quickly dismissed and so is ‘Terry’ and ‘vaguely Chris Pratt’.

He settles on a mixture of three, ‘Jerome,’ ‘Mr Vagabond’ and ‘Clark.’ He doesn’t know why or if they work but they sound right to him and he cycles through calling him each throughout the day. (And will never admit that Clark came from Clark Kent.)

As it turns out Ray isn’t even serving food at the buffet, instead he’s replacing empty food from the buffet with new servings from the kitchen. He keeps rushing back and forth from the room and doesn’t end up seeing Jerome at all.

Michael lingers threateningly behind the buffet room door to watch over his food and to make sure Gavin doesn’t manage to fuck up like he always does.

Ray isn’t sure what Michael would do if Gavin were to mess up; it’s not like Michael, in his sky blue t-shirt with the words, ‘I only have this job because of the semi illegal threesome I’m having with my bosses’ printed in white, (he got it custom made, much to the displeasure of Jack and the approval of Geoff) could actually go out in front of the guests to kill Gavin, but Ray suspects Michael would find a way.

Regardless, Ray doesn’t end up serving Clark and he finds himself pouting a little through the next hour of cleanup and then their half hour dinner break while the guests do their speeches.

 

He pushes his leftover chicken around his plate halfheartedly as Michael swears, tells off Gavin and glares at Ray’s obvious disinterest in the food.

It’s just him, Michael and Gavin out here. Jack’s too busy monitoring the speeches to eat with them and Geoff has his food already piled onto a plate and tucked away into the heated cabinets to eat later while he keeps the bar running.

“Are you signing off soon?” Ray asks Michael absently, because his job is cooking and that was done a while ago.

“Probably… why?” Michael asks and Ray shrugs.

“I need someone to do the security check with me.”

“I’ll do it!” Gavin volunteers, shoving a hand into the air as he does.

“No,” Ray deadpans, turning pleading eyes on Michael. Michael considers, twisting his face up in displeasure and eventually sighs, setting down his glass on the table.

“Nah man. It’s past my work time anyway and I need to rest up before Geoff and Jack come up.”

Gavin scrunches his entire face and glares at Michael.

“What?” Michael asks with attitude, “just because you aren’t getting any, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Gavin swallows down a comeback and pouts into his food while Ray eyes his potatoes and considers how long it’s been since he himself actually got any. Longer than Gavin probably.

“I’m horny,” he whines, slouching back over the couch and Michael smirks at him over his glass.

“Would if I could but I can’t,” he says and Ray sighs into his food.

“What about me?” Gavin butts in. Michael looks him up and down and back up and says, “I’ll ask.”

Ray wants to make some snarky comment about how he’s way better than Gavin but he knows Geoff and Jack are already untrusting of the closeness between him and Michael. They don’t even like it when they have overnight game marathons. It’s a little farfetched and ridiculous.

Sure, Ray’s first attempt at giving a blowjob had been on Michael and they’d fooled around a lot when sex became a thing for them but ultimately they knew they were best friends, not boyfriends. The feelings between them aren’t romantic, even if there’s lust.

Geoff and Jack don’t seem to care though; him and Michael are close enough in their minds. Anything sexual happening between them now would be the last straw.

Gavin on the other hand annoys Michael far too much for there to be serious feelings going on. Geoff and Jack would have no problem with a quick four-way grapple with Gavin. He’s hot and not emotionally attached, even if he does irritate everyone at least some of the time.

Ray’s dick may not like it but he gets it.

 

It’s dark when Ray goes out on security check alone, despite Gavin offering to come with. Nothing ever happens anyway.

He checks the shut down side of the building and everything’s fine, no people passed out drunk or making out awkwardly in places they shouldn’t be.

Ray also checks the girl’s bathroom and then the guys. Both are clear and he moves on, through the front hallway out into the night. Music booms out after him, desperate to be heard in the stillness of the air but the further he walks, the quieter it gets until it’s gone, swallowed up.

He goes to head up the concrete stairs to storage and the car park when he sees something white down in the pitch-black shadow of the tennis court.

‘No way,’ he thinks but he goes down anyway, holding his phone out before him as a flashlight. Before his eyes, Jerome appears from out of the dark. He’s walking towards him, probably having seen the light and getting up to assure Ray he’s fine.

“Mr Vagabond,” Ray says before his mind catches up and he swears inwardly but decides to roll with it, “you can’t be down here while it’s dark.” Ray still doesn’t know if that’s true but the tennis court thing is starting to be a little creepy.

“Mr Vagabond?” the guy asks and Ray nods.

“I uh… made up a name for you so I could stop calling you ‘weird tennis court guy’ in my head.”

“And you chose Mr Vagabond?”

“Well… yes. That or Jerome,” Ray says speculating, thinking maybe the guy’s name will actually be Jerome?

“Jerome?” The guy asks again, sounding weirded out.

“Clark?”

“What?”

“Jed?”

“No.”

“Alfie?”

“No.”

“Warren?” Ray tries.

“No.”

“Come on,” Ray jokes, “give us a hint here.”

“What us? You're alone.” The guy says, eerily, and Ray shivers as the wind brushes past his arms and the night suddenly becomes quiet and scary.

“I uh… yeah. I’m gonna go…” Ray stutters, backing away as the man in front of him steps forward toward Ray once and then again.

“Why?”

“I… uh- work?”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” the guy tells him, voice silky and seductive.

Despite himself, Ray finds getting hard at the tone and hell, the situation. This is very much like a scene he keeps asking his lovers to play out with him, one where they threaten him and eye him dangerously like predators.

Ray thinks maybe it's Michael fault; the older boy being a little rough and malicious in bed when they were young and first discovering sex. Regardless, he likes it but none of his lovers who’d tried the scene with him were particularly convincing, particularly good and he’d always felt a little off afterwards even if he’d just had the best orgasm of his life.

‘This isn’t a scene,’ Ray tries to convince his dick but it doesn’t really seem to care, stiffening under the dangerous gaze of the other man.

Within seconds Ray’s being grabbed, not exactly roughly but not quite gently either, one hand shoved over his mouth barely while the other drags him in close to press against the muscled torso of his captor. His phone drops from his hand and clatters to the ground, shining bright white light over them and the face he’s staring at is not warm or inviting; it looks mad, a feral grin revealing bright white teeth.

“It starts with R,” he’s told and the blue eyes are shadowed but piercing still, holding him in a deep gaze. There’s amusement there, like this is all some big joke to Jerome.

“What?” he tries to say behind the hand, struggling against the firm hold but it doesn’t budge and to Ray’s utter mortification his noticeably hard dick stiffens even further and digs into the sharp angle of the other’s hipbone. It feels phenomenal and he whines softly, helplessly jerking his own hips forward to rub once more against the body held tight against his.

He knows he should be trying to escape but finds himself struggling just to feel the rough grip tighten further.

“Unexpected…” is breathed into his ear and then the hand covering his mouth is gone.

Simultaneous relief and disappointment surge through his system as he goes to call for help and instead gets lips pressed harshly to his own, stubble catching on his skin and hands pulling him closer, further up against a firm chest. His eyes clench shut and every muscle feels tense and coiled.

He doesn’t even really realise his feet are off the ground; legs wrapped around a strong torso until he tries to thrust and finds he has no leverage.

Their kiss deepens, a tongue plundering his mouth thoroughly and pushing him into submission as he leans back, spine arched in a delightfully painful way.

“How much?” the guys gasps as their kiss breaks, leaning Ray even further back over his arms to press rough kisses and bites to the soft skin of Ray’s throat.

“Wha-“ Ray asks, cut off halfway when a loud, unrestrained moan curls through his throat and into the crisp air of the night.

“Fuck,” the guy curses, grinding Ray harder into his own erection, “how much do you like? How much can you take?”

Ray gets it immediately and finds his skin heating with a full body blush that starts at his face and spreads though his limbs, curling his toes against the soles of his work shoes.

‘YOLO,’ he decides, if he dies tonight at least he’ll get a damn good fucking.

He smiles devilishly at the blonde man, giving up sanity altogether; leaning forward to lick open his lips and work his way inside. Their tongues twirl together, pressing and slick and Ray pulls back only slightly so their lips remain barely together as he gasps out, “all you can give.”

Tennis court guy moans at that, low and reverberating through his chest and he carries Ray easily over to the lone chair of the tennis court, unbuttoning as he goes until Ray’s bent back over the chair, shirtless with his knees on the ground and body stretched to follow the form of the seat. His back’s aching and the kisses they’re sharing are more teeth than tongue and lips but Ray doesn’t care, he presses into it, urges it on, fucking yearns for it because holy shit, he’s never felt something this electric before in his life. His eyes flutter closed and he wonders if the people up top are able to hear the moans escaping from his lips.

He feels so close already from just this and he searches out the feeling, surging up into the other’s mouth but then the hot mouth is gone and Ray whines in displeasure, opening his eyes to glare at the other man.

“It’s Ryan,” the guy tells him softly and Ray tilts his head in confusion, leaning forward to try and reconnect their lips, hips twitching slightly.

“My name is Ryan. You’ll need to know for later,” Ryan says and Ray rests his head back on the seat, arching and trying to get Ryan to understand that he really needs him to do something else with his mouth instead of talking.

He feels fingers curl possessively around his sides, feeling in towards his lower back and then up until they meet the chair and drift back around to Ray’s front, bypassing his nipples and smoothing up over his throat.

“Beautiful,” Ryan breathes, leaning in again to connect their lips and Ray sighs into it, melts into it and then jolts and panics a little because Ryan just picks him up like he weighs nothing and starts heading back toward the main building.

Ray struggles a little, wary of guests and hell, Gavin seeing him like this; shirtless and hard but the moment they get up the stairs from the courts, they swivel and head up another set of stairs: the ones leading up to the car park.

Ray really fights against Ryan’s hold now, trying to push away with everything he has but it doesn’t even seem to faze the guy. He just adjusts his grip slightly and keeps walking.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Ray yells, silenced a second later with a biting nip to his lower lip and a rough smack to his rear. It’s shocking to his system and a whimper slips from his throat even as his dick takes monumental interest and shifts against Ryan’s hipbone.

“I think you’ll find you are,” he’s told in a tone too soft and deadly for him to handle.

“You have two options,” Ryan says, holding him firmly as they approach the rows of cars, “either you play nice and I let you sit up front or you’re going in the trunk.”

Ray stares into the sharp gaze, hoping the guy is joking and he’ll be let go any second now but as they get closer and closer to the cars and he hears a beep of one unlocking, he realises how much shit he’s in here.

“Front,” he manages, throat dry and coated in sand. At least that way he can maybe escape.

 

What Ray ends up doing in the front is not escaping, instead he’s bent over the middle console, a shockingly large dick in his hand and halfway down his throat. He’s rock hard at this point, has been ever since his flagging erection heard the words, “let’s find a use for that pretty mouth.”

He’s scared, but not entirely of Ryan. He’s scared about Ryan’s concentration; the car is going really fast for car blowjob speed. What if they crash? He doesn’t want the police to find his dead body with a dick in it's mouth, that wouldn’t be cool. Ryan doesn’t seem worried though, one hand on the wheel, the other resting heavily on Ray’s head, fingers drifting through the strands of hair.

“Touch yourself,” Ryan commands, eyes fixed on the road but still somehow able to see when Ray reaches down to the prominent bulge in his work pants to push up into his hand, desperate for relief.

Ryan brushes his thumb along Ray’s cheekbone and tells him, “good boy.”

Ray’s dick jumps in his hand and he tries not to think about it.

 

By the time the car rumbles to a stop and Ryan pushes him away, Ray is light headed and somewhat surprised Ryan hasn’t come yet. Occasionally he’d pull Ray up and off when his breathing was getting heavier and his control was obviously slipping but it wasn’t that often and Ray had been working diligently at it for half an hour.

His jaw’s deliciously sore now though, aching and sparking little jolts of pleasure. It feels wrong being closed, like it’s supposed to be forced open around Ryan’s ridiculous amount of dick.

Even his throat feels empty when he swallows.

Ryan gets out of the car and Ray wonders if he can manage to get away before Ryan gets round to his door.

He grapples with the handle, shoves the door open and falls out to his feet – already running away when strong arms wrap around his middle and pull him back from freedom. He struggles and kicks and attempts to yell but once again just gets a hand over his mouth and makes no real difference to Ryan.

He gets dragged part of the way to an apartment building before Ryan just sweeps him up onto a broad shoulder and carries him the rest of the way, through the doors and up several flights of stairs. If Ray weren’t so terrified he would be impressed.

Ryan manages to hold a squirming Ray with one arm and unlocks his door with the other, spanking Ray hard and fast whenever he opens his mouth to yell for help. As ineffective as it may seem like that would be, Ray finds himself jolted into silence every time as his dick throbs and completely ignores that this guy has kidnapped him and probably plans to rape him and kill him. Joy.

‘Still,’ he thinks, ‘if I survive this I probably won't take Gavin on security checks anyway.’

He’s placed back on his feet and shoved into the depths of an apartment. It’s dark and he sees very little but he expects blood and skin lamps and creepy things everywhere so he chooses to stare down at his hands.

The door shuts behind him and he’s abruptly thrown into shadow, no sense of where anything sits, no sense of where Ryan is past the shallow breathing that seems to reverberate round the room.

When fingers brush over his bare shoulder, he jerks away and falls into a hard chest and arms that encompass him completely.

Harsh, biting, openmouthed kisses are pressed along his neck, up his jaw and trail over his lips. They continue as he’s herded through the room, wide eyes attempting to search out an escape. He finds none and then Ryan pushes him.

He trips and falls, landing on softness that clenches between his fingers as he realises he’s on a bed.

“Don’t,” he whispers, scrambling backwards as Ryan grips his ankle and keeps him in place. He feels the larger man climb atop him and pin him down as deft fingers undo his belt in the dark and he hears it thud onto the floor.

“Please don’t,” he pleads, “stop.”

Ryan doesn’t seem to hear nor care, he pushes the plastic button out through the hole slowly as Ray squirms, whimpers, whines and then moans as his work pants are tugged down along with his underwear enough for Ryan to stroke over his erection softly.

The hand leaves him briefly and Ray despises himself for arching his hips up to follow it. It returns quickly though alongside a soft thump from the floor that Ray works out to be Ryan’s shirt as warm tight muscles are pressed down against him.

His breath catches in his throat at the feeling of skin on skin and he bites down softly on the neck before him.

Ryan moans lowly and then disappears from atop Ray, swearing in the dark before returning to pull Ray’s remaining clothing off entirely. Now when he lowers himself down onto Ray, there is no barrier of clothing at all and Ray sobs in pleasure and fear, legs wrapping automatically around the body pressed to his own.

“Don’t,” he says again though his fingers are latching into the bare skin happily.

Ryan’s mouth find his in the dark and their tongues twirl together as Ray melts into the kiss, too horny to really stop himself.

They’re pressing into one another, sweat slick skin sliding on skin and Ray can’t help but keen with the sensations, moaning and whining into the searing heat of Ryan’s mouth. He finds himself lost in the feeling, body stuck on how good it is even as his mind rebels, telling him to be scared and he is when he hears a snick in the dark. It’s a distinctive sound and he swallows even as his mouth slides against Ryan’s.

Slick fingers circle his opening and he tenses against it, freezing in place entirely and Ryan pulls back from his mouth.

“Cold?” he’s asked and he hums, not answering exactly because the temperature doesn’t bother him, not with everything else going on. Ryan seems to take it as a yes though, drawing his fingers back and rubbing them together before they return and one presses into him, shallow and painful because Ray’s really clenching down on this, determined to make this as difficult as possible before he realises how it’d really only be making things worse for himself.

He relaxes visibly and Ryan starts moving the finger within him, slowly and carefully before adding another and stretching them out, stretching Ray out and Ray suddenly remembers the amount of dick that Ryan has and tenses once more, wincing and forcing himself to relax.

He starts rocking into it, as much as he wishes his hips to stop and when he arches his back they brush his prostate, sending red hot sparks throughout his body, curling his toes and ripping a hoarse, loud moan out of his slack mouth.

After that they stay, pressing deliciously over and over again – sometimes softly and sometimes so hard, Ray sees stars behind his eyelids, eyes scrunched up in pleasure.

When Ryan takes his two fingers back out, Ray whines and chokes out, “more.”

It’s partially because he knows how big Ryan is and wants to be really well prepped for that but it’s mostly because he can’t get enough of the sensations coursing through his veins.

He feels overwhelmed by it and when the fingers return, sliding in deep for a second before another is slipped in beside, he writhes because they hit right on his prostate and then Ryan isn’t pressing against it, he’s abusing it.

He pulls his fingers out slowly and drives them back in with a level of force and control and consistency that makes Ray thrash and lose his mind. He can’t think, can’t focus on anything. It’s all too much and he can feel himself spiking towards climax and just as he’s about to reach the crest and spill over, the fingers disappear and something much larger is nudging against him.

He shakes his head and pushes at Ryan, pushes him hard and Ryan huffs and rolls over so Ray’s straddling him and then the head of his dick is pushing up into him and Ray tries to keep himself up but his legs are jelly.

Gravity plus the painful grip of Ryan’s fingers on his hips overcome him easily and the head slips further and further in until the entire shaft is buried within Ray and Ray’s shaking and sobbing and so full he feels like he might explode at any moment, at any movement.

When Ryan starts to guide him back up Ray bats at his hands and silent tears stream down his red cheeks but Ryan continues the movement anyway and Ray feels every slow inch leave him before he’s dropped back down and he cries out in a gut clenching mixture of pain and pleasure.

Ryan’s hands remain fixed in the bones of his hips torturously and force Ray up and back down and up until he’s a mess of tears, unresponsive limbs, stuttered pleas and sick pleasure. Ryan moans along with him, panting in the dark and Ray can’t even breathe. Not when he’s being raped and it feels this good, like he’s being taken apart piece by piece and put back together into something else entirely.

When Ryan comes, he’s buried fully in Ray – holding him close against his chest and shivering through his orgasm. Just the knowledge that Ryan’s got off on this, on Ray’s agony, skyrockets him to the edge but not quite over it until Ryan kisses him softly and reaches a hand between them to stroke Ray through his own insane, intense orgasm.

He’s gone before Ryan even pulls out of him, unconscious as Ryan cleans them up and settles him under the covers, wrapping himself around the small Puerto Rican like a koala around a tree.

Ray’s unconscious as a long drawn out kiss is pressed to his forehead.

 

Ray wakes up in parts. First it’s a hazy sort of happiness; man… he feels great. He feels fully and truly satisfied with life. Then he takes in the unfamiliar surroundings and dread curls itself into his stomach, nausea sweeping through him. 

He was raped. God, someone raped him and he enjoyed it; not just the physical pleasure of someone touching him after so long. No, he enjoyed actually being raped, the situation, the loss of control and the bruises pressed into his skin.

He moves carefully, wary that Ryan may still be in bed with him. He doesn’t want to wake him, he just wants to leave. Leave and curl up beside Michael in a little ball of shame. He turns to an empty bed and his breath releases in sheer relief.

He reaches for his glasses that he can barely make out on the table beside him and stands only to immediately fall back down to the bed when a stabbing pain twists around his spine. It hurts, it really hurts and he whimpers at the feeling, acutely aware of his dick perking up a little in response.

“Yeah, you might not want to get up,” someone says dryly and almost apologetically. His head shoots up even as he backs up over the bed, ignoring the pain in order to move further away from Ryan whose leaning casually in the doorway, shirtless and carrying a plate of what looks like pancakes.

Ray stares wide eyed at Ryan, desperately trying to ignore the attraction deep seated in his gut.

“Hmm… I’ll get you some Advil,” Ryan muses and then he’s gone back out the door, taking the plate with him.

Ray balls himself up in bed, trying to become as small as possible as he hyperventilates. He trapped and there’s no way he can get past Ryan. The guy’s a tank.

Ryan reenters and raises a brow at Ray on the bed, setting down a glass of water, two little white pills and the plate of pancakes on the bedside table.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice soft and worried as he sits at the edge of the bed casually like he didn’t just rape Ray not even a whole day ago.

Ray shoots him an incredulous look, laughing a little hysterically.

“Am I okay? No I’m not okay! God, you raped me…” he trails off and Ryan pales, shock evident in the lines of his face.

“I raped you?” he asks, voice high and confused.

“Unless you have a twin brother!” Ray snarls, finding this version of Ryan much easier to talk to. Distantly he recognizes this is probably a way to lull him into a false sense of security.

“You… I – I thought you wanted it,” Ryan says, distraught.

“What part of me running away said that to you?” Ray yells and flinches when Ryan reaches out towards him only to pull back instantly.

“I thought… I thought you were just going with the scene. You – I thought back at the wedding… you said ‘all you can give’. I – that wasn’t consent,” Ryan realises and he looks so horrified by himself that Ray almost wants to reach out and comfort him.

“I – should have given you a safe word… You were saying stop and I just didn’t and god. You must’ve been terrified,” Ryan whispers and abruptly stands, fisting his hands in his blonde hair and pacing.

“You were acting?” Ray asks, wishing his voice didn’t sound quite so small.

“Yeah… of course. I don’t – I’m not – I don’t do that. I mean I know about it and I’ve experimented a little but I haven’t really ever done anything like that before but you just seemed so into it so I went with it. You… you were hard and I… I made a terrible mistake.”

“Why’d you grab me in the first place?” Ray asks, trying to piece together how Ryan must’ve seen the entire night.

“I just… you were alone and I noticed you earlier and then you looked like you were looking for me all night. I figured you were flirting with the name thing…”

“I was,” Ray interjects and Ryan nods.

“So I just… thought we were playing maybe. I was working with the ‘creepy tennis court thing’ and you were pretending to be scared but… you were actually scared.”

Ryan pauses for so long Ray wonders if he’s done with talking altogether but then he looks up from where he’s staring at the ground and fixes Ray with the saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “I’m just – I’m gonna leave for a bit, give you space from me and uh… you can still eat the pancakes…”

Ray glances at the neat stack of pancakes sitting on the table, dripping with maple syrup and topped with fresh cut up strawberries and he takes a deep breath.

“No. Don’t go,” he mutters and Ryan turns from where he’s picking up his coat, wide-eyed and maybe a little hopeful. “It was miscommunication,” Ray mumbles and Ryan shakes his head, advancing on the bed and stopping abruptly beside it as he sighs.

“No it wasn’t. It was me forcing myself on you. You – you’re perfect and I got caught up in it. I – you can call the cops on me,” Ryan tells him, fumbling Ray’s phone out of his pocket awkwardly. “You – here. You dropped it back at the tennis court so I grabbed it for you.” Ryan’s flushed and despairing, fidgeting and his hand keeps opening out as if to cup Ray’s face before he reigns it back in.

Ray takes his phone back and sighs at the little cracks visible in the screen.

“Sorry,” Ryan whispers.

“Perfect?” Ray asks, simultaneously half in love with Ryan and terrified of him.

“Yes,” Ryan answers instantly, biting his bottom lip.

“Why?”

Ryan smiles small, sadly. “I was just escaping my ex when I was down in the tennis court and then I saw you looking at me and it was quite the distance but you were so small, obviously adorable and then I saw you later on when I was getting food. You were rushing back and forth so I didn’t really get a good look but you were so focused and you kept giving people these little cute smiles and pushing your glasses up. You stopped at one point to talk to the guy with the huge beard and I… well, you have the most beautiful eyes…” He babbles and Ray scoffs at the last bit, shaking his head and adjusting his glasses.

“No really,” Ryan tells him seriously, like he really needs Ray to know this, “your eyes… they’re so soft and dark and they kept scrunching up adorably through the…” Ryan stops and looks so unbelievably vulnerable as he gazes down at Ray. “Was… were they all scrunched up like that because you were in pain?” Ryan asks sadly and Ray thinks back to the tennis court and shakes his head.

“No! I mean like… I was in pain but it was good pain, you know? Probably not. They do that from pleasure not pain…” Ray babbles, getting increasingly red as he speaks.

Ray doesn’t seem satisfied. “You… I hurt you,” he whispers and Ray does reach out to comfort him now.

“No, really I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me in any way that I didn’t technically enjoy,” Ray mumbles and pulls Ryan down onto the bed to curl up beside him.

Large arms wrap around him warmly and Ray can’t breathe for a second, images of those same arms dragging him through the dark but then he catches sight of the sad blue of Ryan’s eyes and he winds his own arms around the broad shoulders before him.

Ryan’s crying now, emotionally stressed and so so sorry if the words he’s muttering into Ray’s skin are anything to go by. Ray strokes his bare back with his thumb and tells him it’s fine over and over but both of them know it isn’t really.

They end up bundled up together in bed and each other’s arms all day regardless, each needing comfort in their own way and finding unlikely solace in each other.

 


	2. 'That rapist guy who I really actually like and what do i do here!?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray get's rescued and sorts through his feelings about Ryan.

When Ray awakens from his warm nap session with Ryan it’s dark. It’s so dark in the room and fear washes through him like coursing river rapids. Shivers wrack his small frame and he stumbles from the bed, on his feet and Christ, still fucking naked. 

He feels over the bed for his phone, careful of where he assumes Ryan’s asleep and surprisingly finds it, metallic and rectangular in his hand.

He doesn’t switch on the torch function, rather just tapping the broken screen until dim light escapes into the room and he can make out the door. He finds himself glancing back at Ryan but no matter how peaceful his face looks, Ray can’t bear to face him when it’s dark like it was last night. He finds himself irrationally scared of it, like Ryan only has nocturnal psycho tendencies.

He pads out the door, careful to shut it behind him slowly. So slowly it doesn’t even register with him that it’s actually closed until he’s pushing against it and it won't budge. 

He pulls up his phone and tries not to feel so vulnerable, naked and scared in the kitchen as he is. 

Michael answers the phone after a few rings, groaning softly and Ray can hear him getting up and leaving the room so he doesn’t wake the others. 

“Michael?” a decidedly British voice asks sleepily from the phone and there’s a muffled curse and then Michael’s whispering back, “don’t worry Gavin. Go back to sleep.”

“Bro,” Michael hisses furiously through the phone after a couple of seconds, “where did you go? Geoff said he didn’t take you home and you disappeared in the middle of the shift Ray. What the fuck?”

Ray falters on his words, shuffling on the cold tiles. He knows what he had meant to say, but can’t quite get the lie out. Instead he bursts into tears, sobbing and hiccupping quietly in the dark.

Michael swears over the line and then his voice is calmer, soothing. 

“Where are you?” he asks and Ray cries harder, each breath he takes in violently shaking his body.

“Come get me,” Ray sobs and he can vaguely hear Michael telling Geoff to get up and quickly.

“I am Ray,” he soothes, “but you need to tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know,” Ray manages, voice thick with pent up emotion and fear.

“How bout you find a street sign Ray?” Michael suggests, fumbling audible through the phone and then there are doors banging and Geoff’s asking “what’s going on?”

“It’s Ray,” Michael hisses back, “he’s crying and he doesn’t know where he is…”

“I can’t,” Ray says, swiping his hand under his nose.

“Why not?”

“I – I can’t find my clothes,” he admits, swaying towards the bedroom door slightly because he knows they’re in there but he doesn’t know if he can go in there. Not again.

“You – fuck,” Michael manages before there’s silence and then Geoff’s on the phone, “Ray. I’m going to need you to find some clothing and tell me where you are or else we can’t come get you.”

Ray nods because that makes sense and then he shakes his head because he doesn’t want to do that. Regardless, he walks back towards the bedroom door, hesitating and then pushing it open. He steps inside, wary of Ryan and searches the floor for his pants. 

He finds them and at the same moment hears “Ray?” from the bed behind him. 

Distantly he wonders how Ryan knows his name before remembering his nametag, probably still attached to his work shirt back at the tennis court.

Scooping his work pants up, he runs. He makes a break for the door and finds his way blocked by Ryan who stares at him blearily before realization flashes over his expression and he steps away from Ray’s escape.

“You’re leaving?” he asks sadly and Ray hears Geoff asking who it is but he doesn’t reply, instead nervously edging toward the door as he refuses to make eye contact with Ryan.

“I can’t… I – I can’t handle this when it’s dark like… before,” he chokes out and sobs threaten to fall from his mouth.

“Okay – I – can I see you maybe when it’s daytime?” Ryan asks, looking wretched and miserable. 

Ray doesn’t answer but he does pull up contacts in his phone and hands it to Ryan so he can input his number. He’s careful not to let their skin touch and flinches a second later when it’s handed back to him, Geoff’s voice evident in the silence of the air. 

Ray goes to leave but Ryan stops him with a light hand on his shoulder, which he twists away from, backing from the room as he hyperventilates. 

Ryan apologizes and disappears into the dark only to reemerge moments later with a pile of black fabric, which Ray determines to be a t-shirt after it’s handed to him. 

He pulls it on and the pants he’d forgotten he was holding, stumbling into them and then turning to the door, rushing when he realises he can’t see Ryan anymore and he’s behind him and he’s turned his back on a threat like an idiot…

He hurls himself out of the apartment and down to the street, recoiling from Ryan’s car as he catches sight of a street sign and relays the street to Geoff through the phone.

Immediately the line is taken back over by Michael who’s practically fuming. 

“What happened?” he yells and Ray shrugs, convinced Michael will pick it up through the phone.

“Did you just shrug at me again?” Michael asks, sounding exasperated but still worried. 

“Yeah,” Ray breathes into the phone and turns back to the apartment, noticing but choosing to ignore the anxious blue eyes peering at him from one of the windows. 

He whirls back around and settles himself down on the curb, feet propped up in the gutter, waiting for Michael to come get him, to come save him.

The moment the car pulls up, Michael is out of it fussing over him and hugging him tightly into warmth. Geoff also gets out and wraps them both up in his tattooed embrace as he sighs behind his moustache and orders them both back into the van.

“Let’s go home,” he mutters and Ray nods.

“Just drop me off at the end of the street,” he says, getting pulled into the back with Michael who coils him limbs around Ray like an octopus and tells him over and over that it will all be okay which he doesn’t think is particularly useful until he feels the tension coiled within him loosen and fade away. He hadn’t even noticed it was there, as normal as it was.

Geoff however turns around in the driver’s seat to glare at him, “No. We’re taking you home.”

Michael agrees against Ray’s neck, breath blowing warm and dry against his neck and any day before now Ray would’ve popped a boner immediately but he doesn’t. He feels oddly numb to it, like the lust that’s always been there between them has faded away into nothing.

When they pull up at the work venue, Ray catches sight of the tennis court and at once fear and want tear through him, knocking the air out of him. 

Michael practically carries him inside where Jack and Gavin sit anxiously, jumping up the moment the door opens to envelop him in hugs but neither ask what happened to him. He’s grateful for that.

They lead him upstairs, to the apartment part of the venue, and provide him with pajama pants that he pulls on in the privacy of the bathroom, catching sight of himself in the mirror perched on the wall. He doesn’t look right, doesn’t look quite like him anymore. It’s as if last night changed him in some indefinable way, in a way that can’t be seen in his dark eyes or in the slope of his jaw. 

Something’s changed though… he stares intently at his mouth, distantly aware that this is more than a little weird but if there were anything actually different it’d be his mouth. It looks the same as always, despite its lengthy encounter with Ryan’s own mouth. Everything looks the same really individually but altogether, he isn’t sure if he’s quite the Ray he was last night. He feels different; not only different but… better – happier. 

He decides to keep the soft t-shirt Ryan gave him on, though it plays war with his mind and heart.

He emerges from the bathroom expecting to be given blankets, a pillow and the soft but lumpy couch but instead Geoff leads him into the big bedroom and settles him in the middle of the bed. Everyone climbs in around him and immediately he’s cocooned in warmth and limbs and love. 

It’s great, really yesterday he would’ve killed for this but Ray can’t help but remember how Ryan held him all day… how that was better. Ray snuggles into the bodies around him anyway and finds himself asleep in seconds.

He wakes alone, like the previous morning, but this time it’s in a familiar room and he can hear worried voices echoing through from the kitchen. 

He probably scared the hell out of Michael… out of all of them.

When he reaches for his phone, it lies silent and broken in his hand as he realises he has Ryan’s number. He blinks the thought away, pocketing his phone and stumbling out of bed, through the door and down the hall towards the kitchen. It’s a familiar place to him and somehow settles the anxiety trying to brick and mortar it’s way up his throat. 

The ridiculously hideous multitude of colours smearing one of the walls even brings a smile to his face as he remembers Geoff, on one of his particularly drunk nights, insisting that it was a great idea and would look brilliant when finished. Gavin still insists it does but Geoff regretted it the moment he woke up and the only reason it’s still there, garishly sneering at all who pass is sheer laziness. 

Ray touches the lumpy paint job fondly as he passes, and trails his fingers along the grooves and bumps all the way through to the kitchen.

The moment he enters the warmly lit space, the other four all fall silent, trying not to stare at him and failing. Finally Gavin jumps from the couch and trips his way to envelop Ray in a tight hug. Everyone else follows suit until Ray’s the middle of a group hug and Michael’s staring him in the eyes and asking without words, what happened?

Ray just blinks up at him apologetically, trying to get across with his facial features that he really can’t talk about it. 

The problem is that Ray ultimately doesn’t want to get Ryan in trouble. It’d been scary and Ryan had terrified him wholly and normally Ray wouldn’t hesitate to turn him in but Ryan had seemed so sad, so angry with himself – kindhearted even. Hell, he’d made Ray pancakes.

It’d been the single most traumatizing thing that had ever happened to Ray but he likes Ryan. Ryan’s his type, what he’d seen of Ryan that morning is absolutely perfect for him but would it be possible to get past what had happened? 

Ray isn’t sure and the arms wrapped around him are less comforting now and more suffocating, like it’s a decision he has to make now – with Michael’s honey toned eyes fixed on him like he needs to be helped. Maybe he does…

Maybe, if he actually likes Ryan, he does need help. What is that thing called where you sympathize and fall for your captors? Stockholm syndrome? Something like that… 

Does it count if it was some big misunderstanding, a misunderstanding that made Ryan cry all day?

Ray slips from the hug; decision made and shoots a quick smile at Michael so he knows it’s okay. 

Retreating to the bathroom, he pulls out his phone and slowly types out a text, then retypes it, swears and retypes it again before squeezing his eyes shut and sending it.

“Hi. It’s Ray. Would you want to go for coffee tomorrow?” it says and Ray cringes over the wording, everything about it… should he have added emoticons so it didn’t seem so formal? God, he doesn’t even drink coffee…

“I’d love to,” comes through over his phone quickly like Ryan had been waiting for a text from him, worrying over it probably and a smile overtakes his face without permission. 

Maybe this could work, maybe it’d be okay, maybe he’d even pretend to like coffee if it meant this would work.

“Michael,” he calls, waits for a response and when Michael appears in the doorway, eyes wide and worried, he chuckles a little. 

“I – uh – I have a date tomorrow,” he says and Michael’s brow furrows considerably as confusion grows quickly over his face.

“Huh?” he asks intelligently.

“A date. I have one. Tomorrow.”

“Huh?”

“I need you to drive me.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No. You are in no way leaving this house for the next year.”

“Michael!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“No. Absolutely no leaving the house, maybe even this room… for at least a year.”

“Michael!”

“No.”

“If I can’t leave this room, could you at least go down to the tennis court to get my shirt back for me.”

“Your – your shirt? What the fuck Ray?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to end on something a little less heart wrenching... i can't take it!
> 
> Ah... tell me what you think while i go freak out about whether i like this or not.


End file.
